


Apply Yourself

by overthetiber



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-04
Updated: 2012-09-04
Packaged: 2017-11-13 14:32:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/504509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overthetiber/pseuds/overthetiber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jesse seeks Walt's approval.  Sort of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apply Yourself

**Author's Note:**

> Set in S1 or early S2.

“Eyes up, Jesse.” 

Mr. White presses fingers in the skin under his jaw, just enough to hurt. 

The sun is going to set soon. A little light’s coming through the blinds. Mr. White’s glasses flash, hiding his face. Jesse can tell he’s smiling, though. Barely smiling, but still.

“Look at me,” says Mr. White. He strokes the top of Jesse’s head with one hand, tightens the hold on his neck with the other. Jesse kind of can’t breathe—which is pathetic, because there’s only like half of Mr. White’s dick in his mouth.

It’s a pretty normal-sized dick. Which, huh. No surprise. He almost hoped it would be really small, but even then he’d be having trouble. 

He now respects Wendy in a whole new way.

“Open.” 

Jesse opens, chokes, nearly gags. Mr. White doesn’t pull back. Another half inch slides past Jesse’s lips, despite his spluttering. He can feel the head nearing his throat. Mr. White grabs the back of his skull, steadies the hand on his jaw.

“Well? Suck it,” he says, impatient. Jesse’s busy learning to breathe through his nose.

(Seriously. Mad fucking respect.)

Mr. White thrusts a little. Jesse gags again. But Mr. White pulls back this time, gives him room to recover. He repositions Jesse’s hands, gets him braced and steady. When he thrusts a second time, it’s actually bearable. Then Jesse sucks too hard or forgets to shield his teeth or something, because careful fingers pry his lips apart, Mr. White pulls out—and suddenly nails are digging hard into his neck. 

Jesse flinches back, yelps. “What the hell, asshole!”

“Watch your goddamn teeth.”

“You didn’t need to _claw_ me.” 

“I think we’re done here,” Mr. White says.

"Fuck you," Jesse says loudly, and immediately regrets it. The stare Mr. White aims at him could level buildings.

"I'm sorry," he says, quieter. "I'm sorry, yo, I—"

“This time,” Mr. White snarls, “pay attention to my instructions.” He says it like this is high school chemistry and Jesse’s goofing off in lab again. Like this is just one more thing that Jesse’s too lazy or drugged-up or stupid to get right.

Jesse can’t un-fail chemistry, erase his criminal record, or bring Aunt Jenny back from the dead, but he can do this. Maybe. He drops to his knees.

They go slower. It’s awkward, and Jesse’s jaw hurts after a while, but that’s okay. The windows are dark by the time Mr. White pulls out again. At first, Jesse thinks there’s something wrong. Then he hears the slap of hand on dick—and, before he has time to object, Mr. White comes on his face.

“Give me a little warning,” Jesse grouses. Mr. White just laughs and hands him a tissue.

There’s jizz on his cheeks and forehead. The inside of his mouth tastes like dick. He feels used and discarded, not to mention kind of gross, and he wants Mr. White to touch him about as much as he wants to crawl in a hole and die. So, when most of the stuff’s been wiped off, he catches Mr. White’s eye and palms his own erection. “Would you, uh,” he whispers. Mr. White shakes his head. 

“Then can I—“

“Yes.”

Jesse undoes his jeans and shoves a hand into his boxers. Panting as he works himself over, he asks, “I did good, right? Mr. White?”

“Good enough for now,” says Mr. White.


End file.
